


whispering with red stained lips that called my name

by gravitycomplex



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, afab language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitycomplex/pseuds/gravitycomplex
Summary: The King of the Underworld never truly considered Spring. Not really, not truly. Not many would.And yet.[The Hades&Persephone inspired AU no one asked for and no one wanted.]
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 1
Kudos: 54





	whispering with red stained lips that called my name

**Author's Note:**

> also maybe mildly inspired by the videogaem Hades (by Supergiant Games)  
> ... mind the afab language tag

The King of the Underworld never truly considered Spring. Not really, not truly. Not many would.

Spring, yes. The end of winter was beautiful to witness, the rebirth of nature from the quiet stillness of the snow and cold — nature’s never ending cycle, perfection in motion.

However, _Spring_ was a different topic. Cullen knew so little of him, nothing beyond what Swiftness sometimes gossiped with the kingdom’s boatman or some of his siblings. 

As far as he knew, the story went as such:

Once upon a time, Harvest — the Seasons himself — had a child with a demigod woman. Not much was known of her, aside from her mixed blood.

(Cullen saw her once. Or at least he saw her shade, walking towards Elysium, her face casted downward, broken. He did not want to know what could’ve caused her death. Not then. Not now, either.)

Together they had a single child: Spring, who returned life to that which had lost it and could make the most barren of ground fertile.

He was spirited away from the eyes of the Pantheon by his father and kept far away, practically caged, not unlike an exotic bird.

Cullen did not care, for he had a kingdom to keep running — he might not be Death himself, but he couldn’t trust Branson with keeping the Underworld running, too disorganized was his brother, so he did it for him.

King of the Underworld, he who had dominion over that which existed below the earth.

He had no business with Spring.

_And yet._

* * *

  
The first two times he met Spring — and neither could fairly be called a meeting, entirely accidental as they were, because they exchanged no words — Cullen was avoiding his responsibilities.

It was not often that he left his job for a couple hours, ran to the surface to enjoy the sun and warmth. If there was even warmth to enjoy. He was happy enough with the sun, if asked.

During the first, he simply stared from where he was sitting, one of his family’s many dogs at his side, as Spring made his way through a field of wheat.

He walked with his arms open, touching every stalk with the care one would utilize to touch a lover. Every movement perfectly considered, understanding in all ways the nature of the life he was gifting.

Cullen was on a hill, looking from afar — he could not see much, not with the wheat covering Spring up to his face. The only reason he was able to notice anyone was there was Spring’s dark complexion and long black hair making him impossible to hide among the golden grass — it would’ve been quite impressive for him to be inconspicuous in that situation.He did not care much for Spring then.

The second time, Cullen had been hiding atop a tree.

Why he’d been there was a completely unimportant story involving his sister and blueberry jam which he would _not be speaking of ever again._

Spring sat under the tree, not noticing him. 

Cullen did not stare. He tried not to interrupt Spring as he began braiding his long — so very long, enough to cover his entire back — hair, decorating the braids with flowers once he was done.

Spring sang as he worked on his hair and Cullen fell asleep among the leaves, soothed by the sound of his voice.

When he woke up, hours later and alone, the darkness of the night did not bother him — and not simply because Night was his mother.

* * *

  
He found out about Spring’s name accidentally, when speaking with Mia. She mentioned him when recounting the story of a man she’d been tasked with punishing that same day.

“—and while I passed by, Dorian greeted me. I was surprised.”

“Who?” Cullen asked. He’d never heard of anyone with that name.

“Spring. Harvest’s child.” Mia answered, with a tone that said quite a lot of her opinion on Harvest.

She had always hated him and Cullen didn’t have to be told why.

A gilded cage was still a cage.

Spring was born caged and would die caged, most likely.

At least now Cullen had a name to remember him by, when it came to pass.

* * *

  
The third time Cullen met Dorian was purposeful.

He hid among the humans in the town he knew Spring regularly visited, sitting against the side of a building, covering himself in rags. Even if the humans around him would’ve been able to see him, which they couldn’t, Cullen would not have been recognized with his face covered as it was.

Spring came walking down a quiet, grassy street. His feet did not cause life to grow immediately, but Cullen knew that in three or so days the grass currently graced by the touch of Dorian’s soles would be greener, livelier than that which had not been blessed.

Cullen stared at Dorian’s fully covered body — none of the times he’d seen him he appeared to be uncovered except for his face, hands and feet. He wore so many layers that the shape of his body was unrecognizable. His face was enough to inspire poems and songs, but it was a shame to see him so hidden away.

He was probably hot too, it was still early in the summer.

(Cullen was sure it was not his choice to wear such clothes.)

Dorian stopped to listen at a pair of women gossiping across the street from where Cullen sat. The two had been there for quite some time, arguing quietly among themselves — Cullen was not entirely sure how they’ve ended up speaking of it, but the younger of the two had mentioned having issues with conceiving a child, her voice carrying heavy resignation.

After a couple of minutes, unnoticed by both of them, Spring pressed a hand to the woman’s lower stomach. 

Cullen couldn’t help himself, looking with awe as Dorian allowed what appeared to have become barren ground to be fertile once more.

It was a lovely thing, even if that woman would not find out until much, much later.

He hoped the best for her.

Dorian didn’t move once he had removed his hand from the woman’s stomach, even as the two of them left, probably returning to their homes — he simply stood in place, motionless and beautiful.

Until he turned his head ever so slightly, looking directly at Cullen.

Their eyes met for the first time and Cullen’s breath was taken from him.

Spring walked towards him and Cullen didn’t even attempt to act as if he was a simple human, lost in thought.

He was King of the Underworld, he had to take responsibility for himself.

Dorian stopped in front of him, squatting until they were staring directly at each other properly.

“Ah… I did not notice you there before.”

“Yes, I intended for you not to notice me.”

Dorian smiled.

His eyes reminded Cullen of the edge of his sword — the same shade, the same sharpness.

“What does one such as you want from one such as me?” Spring asked. He appeared to be honestly curious.

Cullen was not sure what to answer. He did not know fully what he wanted either.

“I…” He began, unsure. Maybe it was simply better for everyone if he didn’t attempt to create any deep reasons for his actions. “I thought you beautiful and wished to see your face.”

Dorian smile turned almost _feral_ , it exuded a malice Cullen had never encountered before.

“I see.” He closed his eyes. “You are the kind of man that expects me to change a cage for a chain, as if I didn’t know both are the same.”

It was a surprise to find out that the caged bird had always known of his condition and even worse to know that others might have considered him worth chaining.

Beautiful things like him were meant to be free, weren’t they? Even if they also appeared dangerous to a fault.

“I have no intention of doing anything to you—” And it was the truth, what was Cullen to do with one that could bring life, he was king of a land where only the dead dwelled. “—and I would not chain you, unless you asked.”

Dorian looked at Cullen, surprised.

And instantly began laughing.

He laughed with such mirth and joy.

Cullen did not know what he’d done to receive such a reaction.

His hand moved, practically on his own, taking a strand of Dorian’s hair — as his fingers moved through it, pure gold and green gems braided themselves around it.

Dorian’s laugh subsided as he looked at the strand Cullen was holding, with unabated interest.

“Oh.” Spring was breathless.

Cullen took the chance to speak openly.

“You are bright and warm. That you are not free is a crime in my eyes and I would have you walk the earth in its entirety if that’s what you wished for.” As he spoke, Cullen removed his hand, giving Dorian some space.

The silence that stayed between them was long and heavy, so much so it became physically painful.

“I have become quite tired—” Dorian whispered, suddenly afraid of being heard. “—of returning to a cage every day, and it’s become sickening… to stay in that cage autumn and winter, as if I was only worthy of that small freedom half the year.”

He got up rapidly, startling Cullen.

“This year is already lost, I think.” He didn’t look at Cullen as he spoke then. “Look for me at the end of summer, next year.” Dorian turned away, ready to begin his trip back home. “I have decided that I’d rather take whatever chain you put on me than continue living in my father’s cage.”

* * *

  
Next year, the last day of summer, Cullen looked for Dorian by the outskirts of that same town, close to the same wheat fields he’d once found him in. He waited there for hours on end, until the moon was beginning to rise.

Dorian walked towards him, eyes downcast and body covered in silks.

Cullen took Dorian’s hand and kissed it, making him smile.

“My new jailer is a gentleman, I see.”

The glare that he received for such words appeared, from Spring’s expression, to be fully unexpected.

“I am not your jailer and I have no plans to be. I am bringing you to my domain and you will have the freedom to move inside it as you like and to leave whenever you desire. Please understand that.” Cullen understood Dorian’s feelings and would forgive him for such words, but he had a right to be tired of such implications from him.

He was answered simply with a nod, although Dorian did not look particularly convinced.

Venturing into the underworld was not a complex affair, if you are its king. Humans had far more complications on the way down, although their return was usually much more comfortable — if they were to return at all.

Dorian’s eyes were drawn to the glinting coming from the gems and metals visible in the walls of the underground. The way to his House was full of unknown herbs and plants that only properly grew where the light wouldn’t touch, fungi that glow in the darkness eternally surrounding them, lighting the way into Cullen’s home.

Cullen noticed how Dorian shivered when his feet touched the marble that made his House’s floors, staring down at them, utterly offended for such crime. He would get him something to cover them tomorrow.

Rosalie was the first to receive them, right at the entrance, half asleep of course. Narcolepsy wasn’t strange on Sleep herself, but she kept it all under control… for the most part. She pressed a kiss to Dorian’s cheek as a greeting, and Dorian returned the gesture kindly, before she flew off to her bedroom.

Branson and Mia were already in bed, their days too long for Cullen to even consider waking them up to have them greet their guest. They could do so tomorrow.

Shades passed them by the hallways as Cullen took Dorian to his room, a hand on his lower back, guiding him.

“My child?”

Adelaide’s voice reverberated in the hallway, low and kind. Her very presence unnerved the weakest shades and made gods younger (and older) than Cullen act like terrified children.

His mother, Night Incarnate, was a powerful presence.

“Hello, mom.” Cullen smiled, looking at Dorian to make sure he was still fine.

He looked… mesmerized.

“Hello, Cullen… You have brought a friend into our home?” She asked, as if it wasn’t ridiculously obvious that was what Cullen had done.

“Ah… yes. This is Dorian—”  
  
“I know who Halward’s son is.” Adelaide smiled pleasantly, putting one of her hands on top of Dorian’s head, petting him. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Spring… I have seen your work, what you do is beautiful.”

Dorian took a few seconds to reply, as if he had difficulty finding the words to do so.

“Ah… Thank you, ma’am.”

“How long will you be staying, darling?”

“I’ll have to return once winter ends.” Dorian looked at Adelaide practically enthralled by her. He even appeared disappointed when she stopped petting him.

“I see. We’ll make sure your stay in our House is a comfortable one. Please speak to any of us if you need anything.” She turned to leave for her bedroom, but Cullen stopped her.

“Mom, could you get something for Dorian’s feet? I think the marble is a little too cold for him.” Cullen smiled as he spoke, ignoring the glare Dorian was giving him.

“I will make sure he has something tomorrow, Cullen.” And with that she left.

Dorian continued to glare at Cullen, even after Adelaide left.

“What? You looked cold when you stepped in?” Cullen was admittedly entertained by Dorian’s anger.

“That… that doesn’t mean you have to tell her such things. You embarrassed me in front of Night Incarnate!”  
  
“She will hardly think you weak for not liking the cold… do you think she did not cover me and my siblings from head to toe when we were children?” Cullen began walking once again, allowing Dorian to follow him if he wanted.

Dorian followed, only two steps behind, in complete silence. He didn’t answer, probably aware that Cullen had a point — Night was all powerful and eternal, but she was also a mother, maybe her most important role had been mothering her children and to mother Dorian too felt quite natural to her… getting ashamed for utilizing her desire to do so would’ve been quite rude.

Cullen took Dorian to his own bedroom. He should’ve taken him to one of the guest rooms, he was aware of that, but he wanted to keep Dorian close to him.

The truth was, as much as Dorian did not deserve to be caged or chained or owned by anyone, Cullen wished for nothing more than to have Dorian for himself.

He was a King of the Underworld, he who had dominion over that which existed below the earth.

 _And yet_ he had never desired anything or anyone as he desired Spring.

Dorian did not appear surprised when they entered the bedroom — the bedroom that was so very obviously Cullen’s. He did not appear uncomfortable or afraid either. He walked deeper into the room, moving towards the bed. His movements were slow, teasing almost.

Cullen couldn’t help but stare, every part of Dorian’s still covered body was a fantasy waiting to be made flesh. His eyes moved shamelessly over Dorian as he began undoing his clothes — shedding every layer of silk not unlike the way a butterfly would shed a cocoon. For months, since Dorian had asked him to return to him on this day, Cullen had been dreaming of the skin that hid underneath, what existed under the silk became more than just a curiosity. He wished to cut the silk with his sword, make Dorian drip gold ichor on them in his brutal attempt to free him from the offending cloth.

It was monstrous, but a part of him wished to lick that ichor from Dorian’s skin. Taste him in the most animalistic way available.

He did not like to think himself a beast, but Cullen’s desire had crossed most lines to be crossed long ago — maybe that was why he did not longer enjoy being alone with his thoughts.

They always strayed back to Dorian’s skin and his desire to paint lovely bruises on it.

Dorian stared at him, once naked, almost as if he was waiting to be taken there and then, without care or respect.

Cullen had his desires, but over them there was an honest love for Spring.

“I will not have you if you do not want me to, and I do not want you to repay me for taking you here… I told you I am not chaining you. Not unless you wish for it.” Even if he very much wanted for Dorian to ask for such a thing. Cullen would happily prepare chains of pure gold, covered in diamonds, something as beautiful and precious as Dorian was.

He wasn’t sure what sort of response he would get from Dorian, but Cullen had not expected the tiny nod he received, followed by Dorian crawling into bed — still completely naked — and curling under the covers.

Poor thing, he truly was cold. Cullen would make sure he was properly outfitted in the morning.

Cullen took off his clothes and got in bed, making sure to leave enough space between him and Dorian so as to not make him uncomfortable. He could feel Dorian’s eyes following him as he undressed and got in his side of the bed, just as shamelessly as Cullen had watched him before.

It was better this way, however. They had six months to build up to this, six months to allow themselves the comfort of touch, if they so wished. Cullen could wait a little longer — he had already waited a year, maybe more if he was completely sincere, waiting for the benefit of Dorian’s comfort was something Cullen was content doing.

The smell of lavender filled the room and Cullen fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

  
Cullen woke up to an empty bed — or at least a bed lacking on people beside himself. Empty was a misnomer, when vines and flowers covered the sheets he was under. The smell of lavender permeated the room as he stretched, looking around for Spring’s presence.

Dorian was at the end of the bed, where there was an ottoman hidden under a ridiculous amount of clothes and furs. He took, from among the many outfits Cullen’s mother had definitely left there, a semi-transparent robe that shimmered under the light, showing it off to Cullen.

“I think your mother is trying to tell me something about your tastes, King.”

“Good morning to you too, Spring.” Cullen answered, blushing ever so slightly. Dorian wasn’t exactly wrong, but it was anything but polite to point that out. “I see my mother brought you quite the selection of clothing… Are you pleased?”

“Hm. Quite.” He smiled, leaving the robe back on the pile and moving back into the bed. “You did not deny my words.”

“You’re a dangerous creature, Spring… I wouldn’t want to incur your wrath, no matter what my feelings for you might be.” Cullen stared as Dorian sat on his knees by his side, one of his hands laying right on the center of Cullen’s chest, still as naked as he’d been the night before.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I get tired of this good boy act you’ve been putting on.” Dorian smiled, sounding somewhat amused. “It’s quite obvious what you want, but you call me dangerous and back down immediately — what is the King of The Underworld so afraid of?”

The hand of his chest moved ever so slowly, trailing down from his chest to his abs and even lower. Cullen grabbed it before it went lower than his navel.

This was simply not how he wanted things to go.

Dorian was looking at their hands as Cullen spoke.

“I am afraid for my heart, dearest Spring. Even kings fear for such delicate things.”

He received such a strange look for that confession.

Dorian looked down at him curiously, his hand still in Cullen’s, almost unsure of what to do with such information. Understandable, as it was not every day that a creature of Cullen’s stature admitted to feelings of that sort, but it was starting to make Cullen quite nervous to be under the scrutiny of Dorian’s eyes.

“I suppose… that’s quite a thing to worry for.” Dorian spoke, finally, resting his own chest on Cullen’s, practically sitting on his lap in the process. “But I wouldn’t worry so terribly if I was you, King.”

His smile was blinding.

Cullen was but a simple king and Dorian was a never ending explosion — he’d been screwed from the start.

“I’ll take good care of your heart.” 

Spring's kiss was soft, painfully so — maybe he was as nervous as Cullen, — he tasted like berries and rose jam. It was sweet, innocent even.

Cullen grabbed Dorian's face to kiss him again, once he'd began separating. Kissing him until they were both breathless had been Cullen's intention for quite some time, and he was happy to do so now that he's been given the chance to.

The vines still over the bedding began moving, grabbing onto Cullen's wrists, tying them together and pulling them over his head.

"… You cannot deny you are a menace now." Cullen said, unamused.

Dorian laughed.

"Let a man be nervous about his first tumble, dear King."

Well that—

Wait.

"First tumble?"

"You think my father allowed me enough privacy to do anything? With a god or otherwise?" Dorian spoke with the tired tone of a man who expects certain things to be obvious and then gets increasingly annoyed by other people not considering such things obvious.

"I… I apologise, if I came too strong."

Dorian rolled his eyes at Cullen’s attempt at gentlemanliness.

"Please do not. At this point I might simply sit on your face, if that will cause you to treat me like a lover and not like an easily broken vase."

Cullen blushed and sputtered for several seconds.

"If… I mean—" He felt as if he was blushing even more, from how hot his face got. "—if that's what you wish… You could. Sit on my face."

Dorian laughed, blushing as well.

"Thank you for your permission, King."

Cullen stared, enthralled by all of Dorian’s movements, as he moved, sitting with his knees against each side of Cullen’s head. Dorian’s hands held his head up — being tied up did complicate his ability to move slightly — to move him closer to Dorian’s cunt.

Thinking back, Cullen was unsure if he’d had any expectations regarding Dorian’s body, but whatever he’d considered hardly mattered when his mouth was actually on Dorian — his tongue slowly moving up and down his lips, sucking lightly on his clit, feeling him grow wet against Cullen’s mouth.

It was a shame that his hands were tied, otherwise he’d be grabbing onto Dorian’s tights. He could see them trembling as he continued to eat him out.

Cullen moved away, just for a moment.

“Could I have my hands? I want to touch you.”

Dorian, red faced and breathless, laughed airily — maybe even pleased by the question — and allowed the vines keeping Cullen’s hands in place to be easily removed.

Having control of his arms, Cullen moved quite fast, using one to grab Dorian by the waist and the other to finger him — slowly, starting with a single finger — and continued eating him out, concentrating mostly on his clit now, licking and sucking it until Dorian was trembling.

Cullen’s wished to make him an incoherent mess.

His rhythm was hard, fast and maybe edging on painful, so much so he didn’t notice Dorian coming until Cullen felt his thighs shuddering under his fingers… and Dorian almost falling on top of him, only stopped by the wall his bed happened to be against being convenient to hold himself against.

It was only kind of Cullen to help Dorian accomodate on the bed, even when he would’ve been happy enough keeping him over him, pleasing him until he passed out, but Cullen thought it would be better to offer Spring a more comfortable position.

“Better?” Cullen asked, pressing a kiss on Dorian’s cheek.

Dorian took a couple minutes to recuperate and catch his breath, grabbing Cullen by the neck and kissing him as hard as he was capable of once his breathing appeared normal enough.

“If you do not fuck me I will have the largest thorn in this world lodged right into your—”

“That really won’t be necessary.”

Dorian laughed and brought Cullen down again to kiss him, his hands moving slowly up and down his back, with something not unlike childish curiosity.

Cullen did his best to accommodate himself between Dorian’s legs, rubbing the inside of this thighs and feeling the wet mess he’d caused there. It turned him on more than was probably healthy, to know he’d made such a thing happen. He began fingering Dorian once again, starting with a finger and adding a second and a third as time passed — enjoying Dorian’s light, breathless voice as he moaned.

“You truly are the loveliest creature I’ve ever had.”

“In your bed?”

“Anywhere.” 

Dorian might have wanted to say something, maybe call him out in some way, but the moan that Cullen’s fingers brought out of him was enough of an interruption. It would’ve been quite fine to make Dorian come again around his fingers.

But Cullen wanted to feel him come around his cock.

(Bringing him from orgasm to orgasm under his fingers was something he could try another time.)

Cullen took Dorian’s legs and raised them up, resting them on his shoulders. Properly open and wet like that, Dorian looked like a dream — every second of this felt not unlike a dream to Cullen.

The first push of his cock inside was slow.

Dorian seemed upset by it, not out of pain or discomfort, but out of utter impatience.

It’s a slow couple of minutes — Cullen was trying to be a proper man, go slow for the sake of Dorian, but Dorian had in fact very little patience for that. When he was already halfway inside, Dorian simply moved his hips attempting, and succeeding for the most part, pushing him almost all the way inside.

The sound Dorian made in that moment was something Cullen would forever remember.

“Titans… You are shameless.” Cullen breathed out, seconds after.

Dorian chuckled after gulping for air, sounding breathlessly pleased with what he’d done.

If that was how Dorian wanted it, Cullen was happy to provide his guest with what he desired.

Cullen snapped his hips, finally bottoming out, causing Dorian to make another high pitched, moan like sound Cullen was going to remember — and try to recreate as many times as he was allowed to do so.

He slumped down slightly, just enough to kiss Dorian, maybe even comfort him in some way with the warmth of his body, as he began moving his hips, fucking him properly, his hands still holding Dorian’s legs up.

A part of Cullen would’ve preferred this to be a softer, gentle affair — the most romantic part of his heart wanted to give Spring something kind and sweet to remember as a first time — but Dorian was shameless and loud, enjoying himself as openly as he could. His voice was everything Cullen had wanted to hear, his body warm and tight, even tighter as he could feel Dorian’s cunt contracting around his cock.

His fantasies did not do the reality justice.

He allowed one of Dorian’s legs to fall down, having one of his hands free to rub at Dorian’s clit as he continued to fuck him, his rhythm building harder and faster, the sounds of wet skin hitting skin filling the room.

When Dorian came, fast and hard, Cullen didn’t do a thing but stare at him, stopping his movements for a chance to look at the loveliest face he’d ever laid eyes on in as much pleasure as he was able to provide him. Even after he was done, Cullen continued to rub Dorian’s clit, as he began fucking him in earnest again, enjoying the way he began sobbing from the overstimulation.

“Please come…” Dorian moaned softly, looking at Cullen with desperation in his eyes. “Please come, Cullen, please come—”

Listening to such a request was the kind thing to do, in Cullen’s eyes.

In comparison, Cullen’s orgasm was simpler. His thrusts became erratic and then simply stopped, with him fully sheathed inside Dorian — who seemed both surprised and pleased at the sensation of Cullen coming inside him.

Something to write down for later.

They stayed connected for a while, trying to catch themselves, just enjoying the way their bodies were attached. Dorian moved a hand to touch Cullen’s lower stomach, right over that place where they were properly joined, his touch so careful it felt as if it was something holy they’d experienced together.

“… Thank you.” He said, finally.

“Do not thank me, this was… entirely selfish for me. Seeing you so like this pleased me.” Cullen pressed a small kiss to Dorian’s forehead before moving off him, falling on the opposite side of the bed.

Dorian turned around and curled by his side.

“Still, I appreciate it.” He looked away from Cullen, bashfully. “Maybe next time I’ll stay on top of you.”

“I would like that.”

They kissed again.

“If you were a virgin, does that mean I can say I ‘plowed virgin ground’?” Cullen asked, out loud, without caring for how ridiculous the question was.

“You are the absolute worst!” Dorian hit him on the chest with his open palm, looking outright embarrassed — blushing, stammering, _the whole deal_. “Shameless! All you chthonic gods are shameless and do not deserve peace!”

Cullen laughed, kissing Dorian until he’d calmed down.

“Please, do not be cross with me for a little joke.” Cullen smiled as Dorian pouted. “… Although, I suppose fertilizing might be the proper term—”

Dorian screeched and continued to do so even after Cullen carried him to the baths.

* * *

  
Dorian continued to be a little bit cross with Cullen for his commentary — which he barely stopped once Dorian promised to see if he could bring another Love into the world by cutting his cock if he didn’t. He probably had gone too far when he began joking about his ‘fertile ground’.

At the very least they were able to share breakfast, or what passed for the first meal of their day as time was slightly distorted in the underworld, with the rest of Cullen’s family. Everyone was kind enough to not comment on the marks covering each other’s skin, the wetness of their newly washed hair (and bodies) or the smell of sex they had not managed to wash out.

Rosalie did, however, look at them pointedly the entire time before returning to her post to nap.

It was an awkward meal, to say the least, but Dorian was welcomed with opens arms into it and that was more than enough for Cullen. Adelaide looked quite pleased that Dorian was wearing the clothes she’d left him, even.

“Oh, before I forget.” Adelaide spoke softly, looking at Dorian with a kindness very few received from Night Incarnate. “I know your mother currently resides in Elysium… if you ask Cullen, I’m sure he would be more than happy taking you to her.”

Dorian’s expression, which he’d kept neutral for most of meal, broke into something soft and fragile.

“I… I would like that very much.” He turned to look at Cullen, who smiled at him.

“I’ll take you to her, and you can visit her whenever you want — you have free rein in my kingdom.”

Dorian returned his smile so brightly Cullen thought, for a moment, that his body would burn until there was nothing but ash left.

* * *

  
For the next sixth months, Cullen allowed his work to fall behind for the sake of giving most of his time to Dorian and his needs — the shades working under him appeared unpreoccupied with Cullen’s change of routine and his family was happy to see him interested in someone, so Cullen felt barely any guilt for ignoring his responsibilities more often.

He took Dorian to see his mother several times. Her home in Elysium did not seem to be inhabited by any other shades, Aquinea had made sure to keep as much distance from the rest of Elysium’s inhabitants as possible.

Every single visit to her home started that way: Aquinea happily sobbing as she held Dorian so hard that he might’ve been unable to breath, had he needed to do such thing to survive.

Cullen didn’t think he had a right to hear what they spoke of and stayed away as much as he could, smiling kindly at Aquinea as he took Dorian away back to his house once their visit was over.

(The last time they visited her, Dorian left with a defeated look in his eyes. Not unhappy, but he looked as if he had accepted a truth he did not wish to know. When Cullen asked what was wrong, he simply smiled and held his hand tightly whispering something about wishing for more time with Aquinea.)

Aside from his trips to the Elysium fields, Dorian spent most of his time in the meadows of Asphodel, curiously collecting the plants capable of surviving in the underworld, asking Cullen what he knew of them — truth was… he wasn’t all that knowledgeable on them, but it was quite simple to get Dorian one of the many books on the subject and spend the afternoon with him as he learnt how to categorize the many pale flowers covering the meadows.

To everyone’s chagrin, Cullen made sure they spent their nights ruining whatever furniture he had available in his bedroom — and one of the guestrooms — gifting a multitude of marks and bruises to Dorian that, if his interest in staring at himself in the mirror every morning, lightly pressing his finger into each one reverently was anything to go by, Dorian enjoyed quite a lot.

A week before the first day of spring and Dorian’s official return to the surface, Cullen took him aside, nervously handing him a small bowl filled with bright red seeds.

“And what are these supposed to be?” Dorian asked, taking a single seed between his thumb and index fingers.

“Pomegranate seeds.” Cullen looked bashful, something he felt quite a lot in the last few weeks every time Dorian would stare at him with even the smallest hint of a smile. He was not used to such emotions, but he found himself enjoying them nonetheless. “It is said that if you eat them you will be forced to stay in the Underworld, a month for each seed.”

Dorian looked doubtful.

“Is that even true?”

“No, not at all.” Cullen couldn’t help himself. He laughed, unsurprised at Dorian’s disbelief. “It’s one of the few fruits capable of growing down here and my siblings and I loved it… but we also loved leaving for the surface and getting lost when we were young, so our parents told us we had to return if we ate any, otherwise we would be returned… forcefully.”

“Ah, I see.” Dorian stared at the seed he still held between his fingers, inspecting it. “I assume that, even if this is a lie, no one would think Darkness and Night Incarnate would say something that wasn’t entirely true?”  
  
“I highly doubt anyone would argue about… _anything_ with my mother. Nevermind my father.”

“Yes, quite a risky endeavour that.”

Dorian stared at Cullen, studying him. He’d never had eyes like Dorian’s on him, so beautiful and plainly dangerous — Spring had always been such a beautiful thing, but only now he could properly see he’d been kept caged because Harvest feared him, rather than because Harvest feared for him.

Seconds passed.

The first seed Dorian popped into his mouth was the one still between his fingers. After, he grabbed a second and ate it. Then a third.

Four. Five. Six.

Dorian stopped then and smiled at Cullen, grabbing a handful of seeds and eating them one by one, without giving him the chance to try and count them.

“Oh, dear… look at that. I suppose I’ll have to come back to the Underworld every day after I finish my work in the surface from now on. I hope the King does not mind my presence.”

Cullen held Dorian’s face in his hands, pressing a kiss to those red stained lips that every night called his name.  
  
“I’m sure he’ll be quite pleased to have you around, dearest Spring.”

* * *

  
The walk back to the surface, that first day of spring, was… slow. Heavy. Dorian had made a decision, but Cullen knew that they were both expecting to find Harvest waiting for them and that put both of them, but mostly Spring, at risk.

Dorian had wanted to deal with his father alone but Cullen couldn’t leave him, not alone with the weight of something like this. He would go back once he was sure Dorian would be safe, but until then he felt a need to stay close and protect Spring if necessary.

It was lovely to see the morning sun touch Dorian’s skin properly — he was wearing one of the many robes his mother had given him, arms and legs uncovered, with only a large, white pelt to protect him from the cold. A pelt he immediately threw off himself once the first few rays of light touched Spring’s face.

Cullen stared as Dorian walked faster, allowing his body to feel the world slowly being reborn under his feet — he smiled at Cullen, so bright it was blinding, and Cullen smiled back, full of what he could only define as love.

“My child.” Dorian’s smile faltered. He didn’t dare turn around, for it was quite obvious who just spoke.

“Father… how nice to see you.”

Cullen grabbed Dorian’s pelt, moving to his side and covering him with it, offering Spring his presence if he needed it.

Dorian nodded softly, holding one of Cullen’s hands. He sighed before putting on a fake smile and turning to look at Halward.

“What are you doing here, father?”

“What am _I_ —? You left my House! I have been looking for you for months! The Sun himself had to inform me you’d left for the Underworld… and you.” Halward stared at Cullen, his expression fluctuating between disgust and rage. “What have you done to my child?”

Cullen couldn’t help the smirk that graced his lips, a little too cruel, too self-satisfied for his own liking.

“Nothing he did not ask or beg for, Harvest. Your son is such a _lovely_ boy.”

The only reason Harvest did not murder him there and then was because Cullen outranked him, being King of a realm. He would laugh at such pleasant thoughts later, when he was alone and Dorian was well and fully fucked under him.

Dorian didn’t care for whatever implications Cullen was happy to push at his father, and cared even less for his father’s anger.

“Father, I simply wanted to leave our home for something unrelated to my work. The King of the Underworld here was kind enough to take me to his realm to spend the colder seasons — his family was wonderful and treated me as kin. Why, I even met mother while I stayed with them.”

Halward’s expression changed the moment Dorian spoke of his mother, turning into absolute terror.

“Your… mother?” He asked, quietly.

“Yes.” Dorian moved towards him, slowly… so very slowly and deliberatively.

Cullen saw as Dorian took a small dagger from the back of his clothes, trying to and failing to be inconspicuous about it. 

A gift from Aquinea, surely.

“She told me to give you a message.” Dorian spoke softly, a hand on Halward’s cheek. “She told me to tell you… that she will not forgive you.”

Halward didn’t make a sound as the knife was pressed into his stomach, gold ichor dripping from the wound. He did not try to escape or resist as Dorian pressed the dagger deeper and deeper.

There was no reason to resist. Harvest had lost his power over Spring the second he’d decided to leave.

It was no longer his child, but a god of his own making.

Beautiful.

Perfection in motion made immortal flesh.

Dorian turned around, blade still covered in golden blood and moved back towards Cullen, using his clothes to clean the blade.

“What the— Dorian?! Was that necessary?” That was one of his best tunics… nevermind the questions he would receive once he returned home covered in blood.

“Yes, it was! Mother will be quite cross with me if I return her knife all dirty.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to Cullen’s neck. “I’ll make it up to you tonight… once we return home.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. I want to show you some of my work… you kept me in your kingdom showing me yours, I think it is time I return the favour.” Dorian offered Cullen his hand with a soft, pleasant smile.

The King of the Underworld took Spring’s hand, being led into whatever fields he decided to be working on that day, ignoring the pained sounds of Harvest as he laid bleeding on the grass.

Halward would survive, of course, and he would return to an empty House — not that Cullen cared, and Dorian seemed to care even less, far more interested in babbling about trying to bring flowers from Asphodel to the surface.

It was a lovely first day of spring.

He hoped they had many more waiting for them.


End file.
